


Go Team Runaway

by hlwar



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drabble Collection, Gen, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:43:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hlwar/pseuds/hlwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever nightmares had brought them together, it was undeniable they were also bound by them. In such a short time they formed their own little Team of Super Friends. One shots and drabbles about the under-appreciated Runaways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misgivings

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers:** The cartoon Young Justice and all its characters remain the property of © Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, Cartoon Network, and Warner Bros./DC Comics. All rights reserved to the original creators. No infringement is intended by this not-for-profit fan story that was written exclusively for fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you're not home for the holidays, what else can you do besides talk about it? Virgil tries to explain the often times contradictory holiday of Thanksgiving to the Runaways. Written for the deviantART Group DCFanfictionWriters and its November (2014) Monthly Drabble Prompt.

 

* * *

 

"So it's a National holiday based around certain foods?"  
  
"Not exactly. It's a time to get together with family and give thanks."  
  
"For food?"  
  
"Well, America  _does_  have the highest obesity rate in the world."  
  
"You're not helpin', Tye."  
  
"Okay, let me try. It's the day you gather with the family you see every single day, plus the ones you never really wanna see at all, and try not to get into arguments."  
  
"Ouch." Virgil laid a hand over his chest as if heartbroken. "Look, I know you're resentful of Maurice but—damn, man! Seriously. There's more positive things than that."   
  
" _No lo entiendo_ ," said Eduardo with a shake of his head. "What else do you do together?"  
  
"You can watch the Macy's Day parade and the big game on TV."  
  
"Don't you Americans ever leave your houses?"    
  
Tye laughed. "Not 'til after dinner, when you go bargain shopping overnight."  
  
Ed looked thunderstruck at the contradictory concepts, but Virgil was quicker on the response: "C'mon, man."  
  
"Sorry, dude. I've just always found it funny."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He gave Virgil a frank look. "For starters, I remember being in grade school and we had to do those corny plays. Guess what role I always got for the Thanksgiving Day re-enactment? Back then I felt awkward, even though Grandpa said I should've been proud 'cuz we're depicted as the heroes. But now I also know the teachers were being stupid and the play was half-assed. It's kinda ignorant."  
  
"Then it's a Native American holiday?" asked Ed.  
  
Tye's lips tilted askew. "Yeah, sort of. Some of us actually celebrate it as our National Day of Mourning, the beginning of the end."  
  
Listening in, Asami seemed to understand the term "the end" and she turned confused eyes to Virgil, who rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, I mean, that's true, too..."   
  
"That's some messed up history,  _hermano_."  
  
Virgil decided to alter the direction of the conversation. "Then you don't celebrate it, either, Tye?"  
  
"No, I do. I'm just as American as you are. I go to the high school game with Jaime, and my family gets together for dinner. Though some of our traditions might be slightly different."   
  
"Game?" Eduardo became more excited.  
  
Virgil clarified, "Yeah, there's local football matches and the pro-NFL game."  
  
"Fùtbol, football?" He doubtfully quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"Nah, not soccer. American football."  
  
Ed screwed up his face and nodded, his doubts confirmed.  
  
"Hey, at least there's no school."  
  
"I'll give thanks for that," Tye said, raising his fist as if cheering a proposed toast.  
  
"Yeah, see." Virgil relaxed, feeling they were finally getting somewhere optimistic. "It's just a day to be grateful for whatcha got."  
  
"You need a special day for that?" Ed joked.   
  
"Ain't you ever needed a reminder?"  
  
Ed bit his lip, feeling a hidden implication in Virgil's throwback. Instead of the obvious, he replied, "I am grateful to no longer be a lab rat."  
  
"Damn right, bro." Tye turned to Asami. "Sam? How 'bout you?"  
  
" _Eeto... Kansha-sai o imi suru, hai. Shikashi wakari au dekinai no sappari arimasen. Demo arigatou o kure yo, ne? So no baai sankyuu._ " She waved her hands at the three boys and beamed. "Thank you for friends. I get hope."   
  
Virgil smiled brightly. "There. I think she explained it the best."  
  
  
  
**End**


	2. Laws of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil Hawkins was excited to be the hero Static and pumped to prove himself to the Team. But as the old Proverb goes...
> 
> **Prompt #18: Pride Before Fall.** Part of the 100 Themes Challenge: Various Prompts on deviantART offered by British-Prophetess, not meant to be done in sequence and no time limit.  
> 

* * *

 

It stung, the gritty sweat dripping into his eyes. But he refused to wipe it away, or even blink. He didn't want to give his opponent _any_  opportunity to gain the upper hand, no matter how trivial it seemed.

Because so far he was winning, at least in his mind.

Virgil had been eager to face-off against Robin, feeling confident with the hand-to-hand combat training from both Black Canary and Aqualad. However, he quickly realized Robin had outside skills, different martial arts prowess under his belt, and the years of knowledge from being Batman's prodigy. Freaking  _Batman!_

It was awe-inspiring to him that he'd managed to last this long against the Boy Wonder, without using his powers. And that pumped him up for the win—made Virgil just a little bit cocky.

Feeling the surge of proud adrenaline, he decided to make the next offensive move. Invading Robin's space within their fighter's circle, he threw a tactical jab. He was rewarded when Robin did exactly as anticipated: he arched his upper body backwards, out of the line of fire. Immediately, Virgil followed with a swift right upper-cut, reaching.

Robin's open-palm swung to both protect and block, his ninja-pace slapping Virgil's aim off; his fist brushed off the other boy's collarbone. When Robin recoiled, his hand grabbed Virgil's wrist and twisted, turning his forearm over, then pulling him closer. Static had to bite his lip, a harsh reminder not to let volts loose into his hands.

Instead, he swung his free arm up and over in a hook, bringing his elbow down into the crook of Robin's arm to break the hold. They were almost on the same wavelength, and Robin released him before the impact was too great, knowing the move was coming.

They backed off, and Robin advanced. He was light and graceful. And as Virgil threw his weight back into a readying position, Robin leaped up. His foot used Virgil's grounded stance to give himself a lift-off, stepping onto Virgil's thigh and up.

Although the added weight threw him off-balance, it wasn't a totally unexpected maneuver—especially not from the acrobatic Boy Wonder. Virgil steeled himself lower, wincing, and before Robin's other leg could raise for the kick, he moved. He forced his knee up as high as he could, throwing the boy an additional, unplanned, height; the aim was broken. Virgil let himself fall back, hitting the ground on his shoulder blades. Robin allowed himself the miss, arcing overhead and tumbling into a landing.

Virgil rose again, but Robin rolled forward and swung his leg in a semi-circle; Virgil popped into the air.  _Dammit, he's fast!_  he couldn't help but admire.  _I need to be faster—_

Coming down, he propelled himself backwards in a slide—and rushed forward. In a whir of movement, Robin gained his feet and blocked several swings. But Virgil forced him to defend only, giving him no time to attack. If his speed was great enough, he wouldn't even have the chance to analyze a move.

And in a blink, Virgil used the little Bat-boy's method against him. When Robin ducked one of his blows, Virgil dropped and swung his own leg. Although he tried to evade, Robin tripped; Virgil felt his toes knock against his calf. It was enough to rock his equilibrium and Virgil pitched his own upper body against him, sealing his fate.

Robin hit the ground. Virgil was on top of him, grappling him in a wrestler's hold. And he saw his "rival's" lips turn up in a slight grin. Robin said, "Uncle."

Virgil let out a deep breath and laughed in good spirits. Despite the tired ache in his limbs, he joyfully bounded back onto this feet and gave a little boxer's two-step, his fists once more raised. He said, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, man."

And suddenly he heard Wonder Girl shout: "Air picket!"

It was his only warning the new combatant had entered the ring. He felt a presence drop from the sky behind him, but he was too deep into his victory to react swiftly enough; he turned—right into an incoming leg against the side, driving him off his own feet. Slamming to the ground, stunned, he found Batgirl hovering over him.

"Watch out for falling Bats," she said, shaking her head and planting a hand on her hip. "They come out of nowhere sometimes." Outside the ring Wonder Girl chuckled.

"Oh, I see how it is, ladies." His breath came in ragged pants now, slightly winded. And even though her expression was parental disappointment, the grin she gave was sassy; he returned her smile. "Gang up on the new guy?"

"Only when they're being show-offs."

"Look who's talkin', girl!"

"Still," Robin interrupted their teasing, and there was a hint of authoritative pride for Virgil in his tone. "Your endurance is getting better. I wasn't expecting you to keep up with me."

Virgil lay spread-eagled on his back and beamed. Even though he was trying to catch his breath while Robin barely broke a sweat, it felt good to be praised by the Titan figurehead. He just wished one of the Mentors had been there to see it unfold.

"So what do you think?" Batgirl asked, returning to her usual serious manner. "Think you can hold your own in a fight, without relying on Static Shock?"

She offered her hand and as Virgil accepted it, rising, he shrugged and quickly corrected, "It's just Static. One word names are cooler than two."

"Wow, thanks!" Wonder Girl joked.

"No offense. I mean, it's not your fault, you kinda  _came_  with that name."

"Better not let  _Black Lightning_  know what you really think," countered Wonder Woman's protégé. Her tone was cheeky, like a schoolgirl who might tattle to teacher.

At the mention of his own Mentor, Virgil's newbie inadequacies prickled his nerves. He masked his sheepish face and said, playfully puffing himself up, "Hey, can't be under his shadow forever, right?"

"Yet it never hurts to remember where you started from." The deep, direct voice of Black Lightning was strong but pleasant as he entered. "Or should we see if Static's shock is ready for the Light?"

_Ah crap, I set myself up for that one._  Virgil allowed himself to look shame-faced, but he met his Mentor's gaze with an undefeated merit. He exhaled deeply, smiled to show his willingness, and let crackles of static loose into his hands.

Pleased with the confident display, Black Lightning returned his smile, briefly, and stepped into the circle.

Virgil noticed the curiously eager look pass between Batgirl and Wonder Girl, and he unconsciously flicked his shoulders in a vain sort of worry. He could still taste the small win against Robin, and losing now would only sour it.  _Gotta remember to keep my mouth shut,_ he made the mental memo to himself. It was always better to end on a high note.

But there was no reason he still couldn't do that. He pumped himself up once more:  _Okay, Hawkins. Show 'em whatcha got!_

And a single, fierce current snapped around Black Lightning, reminding him of his adversary. There was no determination or prodding from his Mentor, his expression easy and waiting. He was allowing the student to make the first attack.  _So go for it_ _—_

One breath, and Static lifted his energy from his center, let it pool in sizzling streams of electricity from his arms into his hands. A vibrating blue aura enveloped him, the static growing. He splayed his fingers, collected the pulse, and shot both hands out towards Black Lightning.

The electric serpents fed off his own life-force and he was already tired; they grew weaker the further they sailed. At the last moment, Lightning threw out only one hand and hefted a white-flashing bolt to counter. The electricity butted heads, but Static was surprised to see his Mentor's practically absorb his own.

Without reflecting, Static spun himself away from the line of sight. He pulsed an electro-orb into his right hand, shot it like a bullet, and repeated with the left. Neither shot could penetrate the energy-shield of the other.

Black Lightning was very professional. He said, "Remember to feel your elements and ground your charges. Don't let them run wild."

_Yeah, they'll get weaker. Oh, wait—_  Catching his drift, Static's eyes darted to the girls and Robin. He had to be careful and stay in control, lest he accidentally shock the bystanders. That was one thing he recalled well from his time with the Runaways; it was primarily about saving lives, not simply beating the bad guy. He grounded himself and steadied the positive-negative imbalance he was building.

"And don't let your guard down—"

As the words left his Mentor's mouth, Static heard the sliding hiss of the training room doors open, saw Rocket enter in search of her fellow Leaguer.

The teenager remembered hearing himself think of the other Dakota City hero:  _Man, she's cute_ _—_  
  
Before a bolt of lightning hit him square in the chest, spinning him twice before his body smacked the floor. For a moment Virgil forgot how to breathe, wasn't quite sure how he even got knocked down; but then a flare of red beside him and the computer reminding him: FAIL made him growl in a breath.

A shadow fell over him, Black Lightning looking down on his new apprentice. "Last lesson?"

"Don't let your guard down."

"For anything or anyone. One slip, and the bad guy won't be as lenient in his blow as I was." Virgil nodded. "You have good instincts, Static, a chess-player's mind. But you're still young, son. I think you might need to stay under my shadow awhile longer. Don't be in such a hurry to see the sun."

Despite the almost sympathetic smile and a fatherly stare which felt all-knowing—making Virgil blush—Static responded with humbled understanding and slightly dented pride. "Yes sir."

Outside the ring Wonder Girl whispered to Batgirl, "Basic laws of Nature. Lightning beats static shock."

  
**End**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> `**Note:** "Air picket" is a military term for reporting on enemy aerial movements.`


	3. Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a Flash Fiction Competition on deviantART and the first round's challenge: **100 words exactly**. That limit! It was the hardest thing I ever had to create... Inspired by the Breathing Theory song "[Fireflies](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBMtenq5JLk)".

* * *

 

"Ah! Little lights!"  
  
He followed his young son's gaze through the twilight dim, looking into the wet grasses beyond the airport. "Fireflies," he stated, ever the pragmatic scientist.  
  
"But... why are they disappearing?"  
  
"They'll come back. Follow one closely, watch the path it takes. See?"  
  
"It's like what you do, Papá?"  
  
"Not exactly. They are not teleporting."  
  
He held out his hand, a sign of impatience, waiting on the child to take heed and follow him along. But his junior stared at the drifting beetles, deep in thought.  
  
"Sad," he finally mused. "What if they don't come back?"  _Like you._

  
  
**End**


	4. Inside Our Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one-shot got away from me, and I was basically just typing to work through Writer's Block. The working title was _How I Met Your Mother_ , and even though I don't get into the whole shipping aspect of fandoms, I have to admit [this](http://fav.me/d8mv7li) is as close as I've come to an OTP. Heheh... ;)

* * *

 

"Doctor? "  
  
Eduardo Dorado Sr. leaned over the back of his desk chair, his eyes questioning the department's administrative assistant.  
  
"They're waiting on you."  
  
_Ay caray..._ He flipped his wrist over, checking his watch, and then cursed himself for not paying closer attention to the time. As was his way, he'd become so engrossed in the project at hand that everything else just slipped by; personal deadlines were as alien to him as the Reach.  
  
He offered the woman a curt, "Thank you," while trying to quickly finish and save his file.  
  
Truth be told, he really didn't want to remember this particular deadline. The meeting was sure to prove... uncomfortable, to say the least. Standing, he felt the need to steel his nerves with a long, steady breath before heading to the lab's main waiting room.   
  
It wasn't going to be easy. Not much in his line of work ever was, considering the science was in juxtaposition with the Justice League. Yet this was an overly sensitive situation which felt like the proverbial time-bomb. These kids had already been through a lot and they seemed fiercely determined  _not_  to lose their freedom again. He wondered who would break it to them, be the bearer of bad news...  
  
The rescued teenagers had been freed from the Reach's captivity, been quarantined for health observations, and Black Canary had already de-briefed them individually. It was a lot to absorb, he was sure. Hell, it was a lot for  _him_. And now the runaways would learn they would not be going home just yet. He hadn't the clearance—nor the courage—to break it to his son before; he would just have to find out with the rest of them.  
  
As he entered the waiting area and his gaze fell on his son, Eduardo Sr. wondered if it might be a blessing in disguise.  
  
Eduardo Dorado Jr. sat with an angry glower on his face, arms folded over his chest and one finger tapping an impatient beat. The child was keeping silent, which meant it was going to be difficult to talk to him.  
  
So the father decided not to even try. Treading cautiously into the room, he was professionally greeted by his JLA colleague, Black Canary. She nodded to him, a tragic look of compassion on her face. So she was going to be the buffer again.

But she smiled openly and welcomed, "Dr. Dorado."   
  
And the younger Dorado appeared to sulk harder and shrink into himself. He buried his face behind his scarf with a look of expectant doom. Dr. Dorado was certain his son figured he would be deported back to Argentina, and in all other likelihood he might have been right. But—  
  
"Please," Black Canary said, waving him and the other parents to sit. "If I could have your attention?"  
  
He didn't mean to but Eduardo Sr. sighed heavily. He removed his white lab coat as he was not there on behalf of S.T.A.R., and sat down next to his son. Eduardo Jr. stiffened awkwardly, trying to cover his discomfort by frowning deeper, trying to show casual pride by  _not_  looking away. His father spared him by never meeting his eyes.   
  
It was definitely a prickly moment. There was a brooding, stifling weight in the air, and it wasn't just from his junior. All the teens looked rather...  _dejected_  about having their families there, in such a facility and at such a horrible time. Dr. Dorado hadn't spoken to them much; it wasn't his job. But he saw a lot of his own son in their mannerisms.   
  
The Native American youth, Tye Longshadow, refused to take the chair directly alongside his mother, a self-righteous glint in his eyes. Unlike Ed Jr., Tye made sure to look at his mother with a disapproving air. Yet there was something close to pain in his looks.  
  
The visitor's badge naming her Shelly, the woman sat rigidly herself, as if unsure of how she should behave among the roomful of parents, scientists, and superheroes. He noted she, too, was alone. When the meeting began, she started wringing her hands, nervously clasping them in her lap. She must have sensed his gaze because she turned to meet his eyes, and she had a small, pleading look about her. He nodded respectfully. Shelly didn't relax any, but she smiled back.  
  
Then they both watched her son sit instead with Asami Koizumi. The girl looked as if she were isolating herself from whatever would transpire. Not surprising since the poor teen spoke no English. However, Dr. David Wilcox was standing against the wall nearby and looking like a bored shadow; he was okay conversationally and waited to be her translator if necessary. Asami seemed to forcefully ignore his presence behind her, and Eduardo Sr. wondered if that attitude was given towards her own family—a family not at all present. Perhaps Tye sat with her out of pity?

But for whatever reason, he found himself more interested in watching Shelly's response to her son's resentful stonewall. She seemed oblivious to it, almost willfully ignorant towards his behavior. There was no professionalism in her body language though, not like he was used to—not like him.  
  
The only family who seemed unbroken was the Hawkins. Virgil sat near his father and mother with the relieved closeness one might normally expect to see between a parent and child, where one had suffered and wanted simply to go home. It was something... strange for Dr. Dorado to witness. He wondered if he should feel inferior somehow? Indeed, he probably looked cold to the Hawkins, but he paid the thought no mind. He never did. He was a scientist, and science could seem cold to outsiders. It was just another fact and he accepted it.  
  
But despite the cheer there, Virgil's eyebrows remained low, a foreboding frown threatening to fix itself on his face.  
  
After a time, Black Canary opened the meeting. "I'm sorry for the wait, everybody, but I hope you understand what a difficult situation this is."  
  
A few bemoaning and haughty sniffs echoed through the room, all the children quickly growing impatient to leave. Why else would their parents be called in, if not to take them home? He felt guilty, knowing they were so close to the receptionist desk and front offices—the exit mere steps away and beckoning them.   
  
"We do appreciate your cooperation, and—"  
  
"And now you'll let us go, right?" Virgil dared quickly, hopefully.  
  
Tye mumbled heatedly, "I'd hardly call it cooperation."   
  
At the sudden tumult of voices Asami grew uneasy.  
  
"We're here to talk about that." Standing at the head of the room, Black Canary was a picture of strength and caring, someone approachable yet commanding authority. And the children did not take a liking to her.   
  
"What's there to talk about?" Tye demanded.  
  
"Yeah, and why are our folks here?" Virgil's eyes darted to his Dad and he said uneasily, "I ain't sure I'm ready to... y'know, go into all _that_  again. With them to hear it in detail."  
  
Ed said in agreement, "Don't you think we've been through enough?"   
  
There was something accusing and callous in his tone, and it made his father cautious. Eduardo Sr. heard that serious tone before, many times in the past, and he didn't want to bring those fights to this present. Trying to stay apart from the exchange, he folded his lab coat over his knee. Eduardo Jr. seemed to take the disconnect as an act of uncaring. His father often felt the boy misunderstood his actions, always so childish; he assumed the junior most likely wanted his father to take his side, but he could not, and he couldn't fake it. Science was not about sugar-coating facts.

And he felt a bitter wall building in the slight space between them. Again.   
  
The scientist also noticed how Black Canary diligently would _not_ meet his gaze, knowing it would signal to his son there was some kind of conspiracy going on against the teens. Instead, she gazed directly on the junior, her eyes kind and encouraging.  
  
"You  _have_  been through a lot. Too much, and I know all of you want to leave it behind and go home." Tye sniffed in nasty disagreement; Asami seemed to understand the notion of "home" and she shook her head. "Unfortunately, we've only seen the tip of the iceberg as far as learning what exactly happened to you. And why."  
  
"But we told you everything we know," Virgil rationalized. "You got us on video sayin' it. What else do you need us for?"  
  
There was something enlightening in the structure of his last sentence which caused Eduardo Jr. to suddenly drop his crossed arms. "I am not staying here," he said. "No way."  
  
Catching their drift too, Tye arched an eyebrow at Black Canary. "Wait, wait—hold on. Tip of the iceberg? Heh! You wanna study us? Dig under the surface and poke around, see what they did to us?"  
  
At the harsh rise of his voice Asami gulped.   
  
Eduardo Jr. mused, "That is why you brought us here in the first place..." There was a sound of crushed hope in his words, as if he thought there was more of a sensitive reason for the father-son reunion.   
  
Finally the son looked at his father, and Eduardo Sr. felt the full impact of his suspicious glare like a physical punch. Yet he still refused to meet his eyes, instead training his own straight ahead, to a spot on the floor. This wasn't going well...  
  
Tye's anger looked to be on the verge of erupting. "How the hell does that make you any better than those damn aliens?"  
  
His mother said softly, "Tye, honey, you—"  
  
"No,  _you_  don't understand," he said sharply. "You never did."  
  
The way she flinched from his words, given with a sound of frustrated disgust, made a pang of empathy shoot through the scientist. It was altogether too familiar, like watching a memory of his own, of all the fights with his own son he kept buried.  
  
With the rapid escalation of emotions, Black Canary moved towards the outraged boy with a firm step, making sure to cut him off, too. "I'm sorry, Tye. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we need to discuss what's happening to the four of you in a calm manner."  
  
"What do you mean, what's happenin' to us?" Virgil asked.  
  
Eduardo Jr. scoffed, " _¿Qué?_  Are we sick?"  
  
"You make it sound like we're gonna die," Tye said in dark sarcasm, like it was ironic.   
  
" _Nobody's dying_." Black Canary's voice was so bold as to regain control of the conversation. "You were all diagnosed as healthy and we plan to keep you that way. To do that, we need to understand how and why the Reach did their genetics study."  
  
The room was still save for Dr. Wilcox's hushed voice, speaking softly in Japanese to Asami; the dialogue was finally moving in a direction where she needed to know the exchange. Dr. Dorado himself was no D.N.A. expert, nor a sociology one, yet he noticed how Black Canary carefully chose her words. The League did not want to frighten the parents with talk of their children now possessing super-human powers. By their faces, the teens were not ready to showcase their new talents, either.  
  
Eduardo Sr. realized he was in a unique position from the other parents in the room, and again it made him feel guilt towards his son.  
  
Black Canary continued, "We might never know the Reach's original research, the theory which led them to Earth. But likely the reason will have a dire outcome for everyone. Unfortunately, that does mean we need to understand these activated genes. And also, now that they are no longer dormant,  _you_ need to understand them. And for that, I'm afraid, you must be in a controlled environment. With your cooperation, everyone can learn from this."  
  
"There goes the  _cooperation_  again," said Tye. "You want us to be your lab rats so you can save the world."  
  
"That is unfair," Ed added in an unhappy grumble.  
  
"I know it seems that way," the Justice League member said, offering a shamefaced smile. "But you're not losing your freedom, and it's not for a long while."  
  
"How's that?" said Virgil.  
  
"They say..." Robert Hawkins began, a thoughtful quality to his tone. "They say they want to keep you safe from the aliens, too. In case they want to—"

"What? Like, _terminate_ me?"

"Want you back. It's for the best, Virgil." With his parents engaged in the conversation, Virgil seemed to relent to the knowledge he would remain at Taos Labs.  
  
"What if we say no?" Eduardo Jr. threw the question out like a challenge.   
  
Black Canary took her time in replying, and before she did she looked at all the parents. "I'm sorry to say but it's not for you to ultimately decide. Being minors, your parents have the final decision."  
  
A cruel, quiet laugh broke from Tye's lips and Shelly looked as if she would be ill. Eduardo Sr. himself felt as if a sudden accusation had come down on the parents, and he knew his own child was judging him in an unforgiving way.  
  
"Asami has agreed to stay—" The three boys turned surprised looks to the girl, who blushed, not understanding why she was deserving of their gazes—"because she doesn't want to return—"  
  
"Well I'm not staying _here_ either," Tye said emphatically in his mother's direction.  
  
" _Sí_ ," said Ed Jr., swiftly rising from his chair. "I am with Skinny Jeans there. I'm out."

Not approving of his son's show of disrespect, Eduardo Sr. strongly urged: "Eduardo."

A strict, parental warning came through his voice, a man used to reprimanding his son, stopping him from making another move. And the boy glowered heatedly at him. He could feel it like a sudden wafting fire.

They had been apart so long, yet surprisingly he didn't even have to order his son to sit down; his junior recognized the firm tense of his father's body language and he knew better than to test his will. At least in public. So Ed heavily dropped back down into his seat.

Being it was just Tye and Eduardo Jr. left to fight, they were both hushed to the fact they were stuck at the Labs along with Virgil and Asami. But the fact did not, however, keep them from staring daggers at their parents, and Dr. Dorado caught Shelly giving him another uncomfortable glance. Like their sons, they were in the same boat. 

"The consent waivers are already signed, and Dr. Wilcox there will be helming the tests. If you have any questions, please direct them to him." Black Canary allowed a moment to pass, but the statement left no room for arguments.

The sudden revelation left the teenagers gloomy and silenced; the parents accepted it with the same amount of gloom, but the Hawkins seemed to force a cheerfulness to brighten the disconcerting affair.

"I feel like I'm leaving you at college already," Jean said. She plastered a smile on her face to keep away the tears in her eyes, hugging Virgil tightly. The boy deflated, knowing it was a farewell hug.

Dr. Dorado shook his head for them, the situation. It was a shame, really.

Even more so for Shelly, who seemed unable to find the words to console her own child. He knew she wanted to, simply by the way she suddenly stared at Tye, as if seeing him for the last time. Then Eduardo Sr. became conscious of his junior looking at the floor, awkward in the face of the other _feeling_ families. And suddenly he shared that awkwardness.

Black Canary was smiling sadly, and from that look there was nothing left to say. The parents knew it was time to say good-bye for now, offer their "call me" sentiments, and try to drag themselves away. At least it was like that for the Hawkins.

Tye Longshadow stood like a shot to avoid speaking to his mother. Asami stood slowly, following the Mescalero-Apache youth, clearly wanting to stay with him and not Dr. Wilcox.

Dr. Dorado was just glad it was over.

"You knew the whole time, didn't you?" His son's abrupt voice was still accusing.

He said dourly in turn, "It is for the best, _mijo_."

The junior Dorado harrumphed a nasty _tch_. "I guess we will find out, won't we?"

Ed rose stridently, and the father saw how he chewed his lower lip, knowing he was biting back harsher words. After a pause, the boy went to group with the other runaways. The little band was in a schoolyard hush, contemplating the ordeal on their level. It seemed like their own little world...

Eduardo Sr. heaved another sigh, needing to release all those biting emotions in that breath. And be rid of them. Of course, it _had_ gone down as he anticipated, but the forethought hadn't made it any easier. Now he just wanted to get away from it all.

As he stood, he saw Shelly coming towards him. "They're so mad at us," she said with a sad, weak smile.

There was a prodding sense to her statement, and her shyness seemed to ask for understanding. It wasn't hard to give. In fact, he felt his shields drop completely, wearily, in her presence, and he had no compunction  in replying, "Always, with that one."

Her smile lit up slightly, as if she found someone in the room to trust. "Your son, too? Sometimes... sometimes I just stop talking to him, because nothing I say is ever right. You know? But Tye..." She looked off towards the boy, and her eyes locked on him with maternal fondness. "He's a good kid, though."

Eduardo Sr. nodded noncommittally, watching the way her expression seemed to cling to something which obviously didn't exist between them. At least not in the present timeline. Before he assumed her ignorance was natural. But studying her face now, up close, he saw no bliss there. Only a helplessness which trained her to dig her heels in against the world. It made her a picture of working-class pride, and very miserable. Strange for him, not being a "people person", he felt his heart sink in pity.

Jogging herself to be polite, she said quickly, "Sorry, I'm Shelly Longshadow, by the way." She extended her hand.

With the same direct courtesy he shook it, and the action reminded him he still held his lab coat. "Eduardo Dorado," he offered, slinging on his technician's white jacket. He wanted to get back to work anyway, his familiar zone.

 But Shelly's eyes went right to the official S.T.A.R. Labs badge and she grew eager. Not only had she found a kindred spirit, but perhaps someone on the inside. His guess was correct when she asked in a hopeful rush, "Do you work here?"

" _Sí_ ," said Dr. Dorado without hesitation. Even he was aware of the boastful tone in his voice—a sound not showing when they were talking about their children.

"So, you know what's happening... I mean, with the kids—"

It was evident she wanted to pry so he spared her the awkwardness by throwing in, "I work in a technology department, a different field."

"Oh," she mouthed, dropping her gaze in vague disappointment. Masking her meddlesome appeal, she smiled again and said nicely, "Your son is lucky to have you close by, then." At his unsure expression she retracted, "Maybe it's better not to be, huh? This is all too confusing, isn't it?"

"Confusing?"

"Like we're in some science-fiction movie. I never in my life would've thought aliens kidnapped Tye. I thought he ran away again... from..."

The last sentence trailed away, as if it should never have been uttered. He noticed her shoulders wilt in an odd, grieving manner and she withdrew inward. Likely to stay within her own illusions, telling herself Tye's disappearance had nothing to do with her. _Personal problems,_ he figured. It was none of his business to ask. It felt touchy, the moment seemingly private. Normally he was good at walling himself off, but somehow he couldn't do it now. He was drawn to her discomfort, her pain all too recognizable— 

The unlikely tension threatening to build was alleviated when Wilcox began herding the children from the room, all of them dragging their feet for individual reasons. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Black Canary beckon him over; her expression was secretive.

"Excuse me," he said, bobbing his head in a formal parting.

Shelly tipped her chin low, but she was too preoccupied to say a proper send-off; instead, she lingered after Tye, clearly wishing to say something but lacking that farewell, too.

Over in the far reaches of the room, Black Canary kept her voice low. "Has David asked you to assist with testing your son's meta-power?"

"He did not have to," the scientist said. "I already offered."

By the tilt of her head Dr. Dorado suspected she thought it was not a good idea. "If it's too hard we can always have Dr. Strange run the experiments."

"My qualifications are just as well," he responded. It wasn't meant in competition with his superior; it was to brush aside the actual meaning of her words.

"I know this can't be easy, Eduardo. Your son doesn't seem to _want_ to make it easy on you."

His depleted shields flared back up. While normally he might get defensive, instead he said overtop a sigh, "He has a right." When Canary's eyebrows lifted in wonderment he clarified, "It is genetic, after all. Meta-gene, by blood..."

The superhero laid a hand reassuringly on his arm, and she said, not unkindly, "Don't let guilt cloud your judgment, doctor. This wasn't your fault, and it wasn't his fault. It just happened. Now it's our job to make the best of it."

 _The best of it?_ It was hard for him to think in that way, his beliefs built on hard evidence and analytic facts. Hope was best described as a pipe dream. Yet he nodded in agreement nonetheless, answering instead, "I have not told him I would be observing, and in any case, I will not be a prominent lead in his testing."

"But do you believe it _could_ be Zeta related telepor—"

A sudden, fiery escalation of voices broke their conversation, and it was so out-of-place in the quiet diplomacy of the science labs it drew them to the doorway. Even in the civil situation Black Canary took on the empowered look of her alias, ready to break up _any_ fight.

The fight they found was Tye in another provoked fit of rage.

"What's _he_ doing here?" His demand echoed off the close corridors. His fists were already tightly clenched in defense as he stared down the hall towards his mother and a gruff looking man of color.

"Tye, don't," Shelly said, her voice faint by comparison.

"Hey, it was a long-ass trip, kid," the man said with a jabbing smirk. "You expect your poor mother to come all this way alone?"

"You're not family," Tye shot back. "You have no right."

"Oh, don't I?"

"Tye, I asked Maurice to come with me," Shelly jumped in. "Please don't make it a big deal."

The hurtful narrowing of Tye's eyes suggested an imminent explosion. As he opened his mouth, the bullets ready to fire at his mother now, Virgil stepped away from his parents to help.

He said, "It's okay, man. Let 'em go."

Eduardo Dorado Sr. continued to watch Shelly's reactions, admiring her steadfast directness. She was trying to be a reasonable parent, even though her eyes clearly glistened with tears. She was desperately _trying_ , but it seemed no one else could see it; she knew it too, by the beseeching, open tone.

But her small pleas seemed to upset her son more. It was only when Asami Koizumi touched Tye's hand, imploring, that the teen allowed the other kids to turn him away.

Just then the brutish man—Maurice—said loudly, purposefully, "What did I tell you, Shelly? I always said that kid of yours would end up locked away, behind some bars or another."

It was a blatant stab in the back, and not only Dr. Dorado felt the cold bristling at his cruel statement; everyone immediately tensed, knowing he would _not_ have the final word.

Indeed, Tye finally broke under the weight of his anger and that cold judgment. He tore away from the others with a curse, his fists raised and his eyes flashing.

And Maurice grinned maliciously, stepping forward, apparently eager to let the boy try to fight a man of his stature. Shelly threw a hand against him with practiced speed, while at the same time wincing as if she'd been struck in the fight.

Seeing that was all Dr. Dorado needed; he moved into the hallway, placing himself between the groups and into the crossfire.

Virgil and Dr. Wilcox held Tye at bay, one on each arm, as Eduardo Jr. put himself in front as a barricade, saying over the din, " _¡Bajá un cambio, mi amigo!"_ He put his hands on Tye's chest to help drive him back.

The air seemed to come alive around a startled and amiss Asami, her uncertain fear igniting her newborn meta-powers. And that display made Black Canary throw herself into the fray, helping the kids to calm down before there was even bigger, _superhuman_ chaos.

"Stop this right now," she commanded, putting her arms around Asami protectively, like a suggestion to Tye; and his spirit softened slightly.

As the small group succeeded in pulling Tye Longshadow away from the battle, the hallway began to settle and the churning, unnatural wind dissipated. In the wake of wounded emotions and hot-headed adolescents, the sudden quiet lull pressed Shelly to the verge of breaking down. She started to follow after her son—but Maurice snatched her hand.

"Ahh, forget it, Shell," he said with absolutely no care. "He just needs to cool off, like always."

"I just want to make sure he's okay," she whispered.

"Leave him. We got a long drive back home." When Maurice jerked her back, using more force than necessary in suggestion, Eduardo Sr. saw her bite her lip, holding in a cry.

And Eduardo only hesitated a moment before stepping in. "Mrs. Longshadow?"

His direct interruption made Maurice pull Shelly backwards enough to put a hand on her shoulder, a possessive show. "It's Miss," he rebuked, unimpressed with Dr. Dorado's civil boldness.

Clearly this man was not Tye's father, yet Eduardo did not wish to overstep his bounds with assumptions. So he refrained from correcting either of their formalities and merely offered a tight, close-lipped smile. Instead, he let his lab coat act as a shield by saying, "I just need you to fill out one more form, _señora_."

Maurice sniggered at the adapted honorific, and Shelly seemed confused by the request. Too overwhelmed to inquire, she finally nodded with a soft sigh. It was like she suddenly gave up. "Wait in the lobby. I'll be there in a minute."

Sensing there was nothing to be done in arguing with the S.T.A.R. scientist, Maurice sneered and—still not getting a rise—he nodded his agreement. "One minute. I wanna beat rush hour, and I still have work tonight."

"I know," she mumbled, clasping her hands in front of her as if to support herself upright, a woman completely sapped of energy and will.

Leaving Maurice to stalk back to the waiting area alone, Eduardo Sr. escorted Shelly back into the main assembly room. Inside, she asked in a tiny, defeated, and rather automated voice, "What did I forget to sign, Dr. Dorado?"

Shaking his head, Eduardo went to the corner desk and retrieved a clearance pass from the highly organized drawers. Holding it out to her he said nicely, "Clip this to your badge. I will take you back to see your son."

Her mouth fell open in a soundless gasp, only to be replaced by a swift smile. "Thank you! I won't be long. Just enough to say good-bye without leaving him mad at me. I hope."

After what he witnessed, he wasn't sure he could agree with her hope, either. However, he didn't want her feeling rushed, discouraged, so he assured, "It is fine. Take all the time you need."

He was pleased to see a genuine smile on her long, heart-shaped face for once, her exotic eyes wide with gratitude. But even more astounding to him was the uncharacteristic urge to be her White Knight. _Tengo curiosidad por saberlo..._

Then again, they _were_ in the same boat.

 

**End**

 


	5. Haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Completely random, based on a drawing I recently did on deviantART ([see here](http://fav.me/da9ebvz)) of Ed with short hair. I think a part of him would be a spiteful rebel about it... XD
> 
>  **Prompt #66: What I Say Goes.** Also pulling from that dA 100 Theme Challenge by British-Prophetess. (No, I didn't forget about it! I just suck at one-shots, and writing in general right now. Trying to get back into it.)

* * *

 

Eduardo sat with a quickly darkening glower on his face. At first he tried to be casual about the visit, tried to pretend he didn't care. But that only made the resentment build more and more, until now he sunk further into the chair unhappily, wishing to disappear completely into the uncomfortable cushion.

And when the barber draped the plastic smock around his shoulders Ed gripped the chair handles fiercely, like a man facing his own electrocution.

 _"¡Un momento—aguarde, aguarde!"_ He suddenly couldn't face it, so close to happening. "Hold on. I'm not sure I can do it."

"It is just a haircut."

Standing nearby, like the jailer escorting the dead man walking, his father shrugged as if it wasn't the big ordeal his brash son was making it out to be. Eduardo Sr. had kept close, instead of sitting off to the side in the waiting area; likely, he suspected the fidgety teen would request a mere short trim on the ends, or back out entirely. Or expecting his junior to bolt from the shop. All of which made Ed bitter, feeling like he were being tested. Or worse, a baby who needed watching.

"We agreed," his father continued. He was calm, but still with his professional doctorate air of authority.

"Well, you said I _had_ to agree," Ed mumbled. "Not the same thing." He wondered if he should just teleport away.

"Eduardo." There was a warning in his parent's tone, patience wearing thin. "You are living under my roof now, and what I say goes."

"But it's kind of my identity, Papá, you know? Besides, everyone keeps calling me Spike Spiegel, like it's familiar—cool, even. And that seems like a bad thing to waste. I've gotta get to know people here somehow, don't I?"

"First of all, anyone named 'Spike' is not a man you should imitate. And second, _mijo_ , that bird's nest afro on your head is not who you are. You are not a street urchin runaway anymore, and you need to look respectable."

The barber patted him on the shoulder, as if to soften the blow to come. "Don't worry, son. It'll grow back before your first semester is done."

" _Sí_ ," said Dr. Dorado. "It is not the end of the world."

A strange, wizened hint flickered in his father's eyes as he shared a long look of meaning with his son. It was a reminder of all he'd been through, things they dared not voice in public; as if any other human being could fathom what they'd seen. And Ed sighed, in both resignation and understanding. After all, his Dad was right. Tortured by aliens, the invasion, and near planetary destruction by the Warworld _and_ the Reach's endgame...

A haircut was definitely not the end of the world. But he still winced when the barber tugged a lock of his unkempt mass of hair, the scissors clicking away...

  
 

Eduardo Jr. stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, no longer recognizing the reflection staring back. Except for maybe the brooding pout.

Perhaps it was part of his father's plan, but he looked older with his new 'do; Eduardo Sr. would probably say he looked "sophisticated". Little black waves and curls topped his head, much too short now to create any shape of their own, while the barber had shaved the nape of his neck just up to his brow-line. He was told to use product (why did professionals always use that word? It sounded gross—) and run his hands from the base of his skull forward, to create "structure and body".

 _Yeah... no._ Ed snorted, knowing he wasn't the fashionably trendy type to give a damn; he already reckoned on being too lazy in the morning. His old umbrella of hair created body naturally, giving him his own style without having to force it. He considered using _product_ to smooth it down, but then he'd look like his Dad and: _Yeah, no._

Ed sighed into the glass. _Sophistication isn't me._ For goodness sake, he was only fourteen!

Suddenly a reckless idea hit him, befitting his age, and his pout turned upwards at the corners into a wicked grin. The notion started as a what-if tease, but then it went full-force son rebellion. Well, his father _did_ want him to get his hair cut...

Tye wouldn't be much use, living with a bunch of girls and having his own luxuriously long mane. So Ed punched the other number on his cell without even thinking. His grin became an excited smile when Virgil answered.

"Yo! Ed, been awhile, man!"

"Too long in fact, _hermano_. A lot of changes being made."

"Huh?"

"Do you have one of those hair clippers at your place? The kind that does a super-close shave?"

"Shave?" Virgil chuckled. "What? You shaving your head _bald_ or somethin'?"

As much as he loved his old man, Ed couldn't help but love the devilish expression his new reflection was wearing even more. "Maybe..."

_"Dude!"_

 

**End**


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